All Right! Fine! I’ll Take You! – Zaimokuza Gaiden – Chapter 6

A scene that all anime fans can appreciate is the ‘entering a girl’s room for the first time.’ Of course, Light Novels are the superior genre in that we usually can appreciate far more important details: the main character will describe the scent of a delicate girl permeating the atmosphere, or how unlike his own dwellings the décor is, usually relating soothing pastel tones that fit the gentle demeanor hidden under the brash tsundere persona, who possibly has a collection of stuffed animals occupying her very plush bed. It’s a chance to showcase a character’s deepest held values, their secret self so carefully hidden from outsiders, through their environment in a way almost akin to that pathetic fallacy thing (am I using that right? And why is that pathetic? Really, it seems perfectly reasonable).

Of course, what one rarely thinks is that that feeling of ‘oh, I am in her room,’ may be perceived as intrusive or even disturbing by the maiden whose bedchambers are being invaded. That the bedroom is, after all, the one place where one is supposed to feel secure, free to express their innermost—

“Really? Yoko Littner? Wasn’t there somebody more obviously fanservicey?”

Aaaaah! I want to die! I want to crawl under my bedcovers and never come out!

“Not that Nami’s much better. She’s about ninety percent bust and hips…”

Lady Minami! Please forgive this unworthy man and spare him from your harsh judgment! I promise to atone in any other way that you deign—

“Asuka in her striped bikini… Classic scene. If you are a horny teenager that can get hard just with that, I mean.”

Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!

“Also, Yoshiteru…” She spears me with her steely gaze, as terrifying as when she held the very future of the Zaimokuza clan in her iron grasp. “Why are there so many redheads in here?”

I look at the shelf with my collection of figurines for a moment, holding the visage of my stalwart companions in my mind’s eye in a desperate search for support that miserably fails, and then look back at Minami.

Her poise is stern as ever, her countenance held at an angle that is not bashful, but provoking, with her chin pushed slightly upward and to the side in a way that makes her cross earring catch the warm light of my lamp as her brow furrows in her regard of my miserable self.

Also, her hair is obviously reddish in tone.

… I never thought that would bring me trouble, but it seems the superstitions of the Anglo-Saxons may have some merit to them.

Though I’d rather swallow mine own tongue than ever imply she may not have a soul. Her ire is fierce enough without further provocation.

“No reason.”

“Really? No reason at all for you to fill your shelf with figurines of scantily clad redheads in tantalizing poses?”

“Is it just me, or is your vocabulary steadily—”

“Answer the goddamn question, chuuni.”

“Ah…”

It seems a vaguely vocal sound may not be the answer she seeks, as the heat in her gaze drops to temperatures not suitable for the survival of a hot springs penguin. Inner Hachiman? Thine advice has so far been marvelously effective in the handling of this young lady.

‘All right, first of all, I do believe the proper term is “Young Mistress,” because she at least has the proper attitude for that whole xianxia nonsense.’

I think she would be slighted at the suggestion. Or bemused. Or flattered. One of those.

‘How very Young Mistressy of her.’

Yes, yes, I understand your meaning. Now, about that advice for something other than proper nomenclature…

‘Oh, that. Yeah, you’re screwed.’

What?! You would desert me in my hour of—

“It is a sex thing, isn’t it? Of course it’s a sex thing.”

“What?! No! Of course not, it’s just that I like characters with a fiery, defiant personality, and that is most usually showcased in a visual manner, such as with the color of their hair. I mean, I certainly wouldn’t have expected real-life redheads to be so passionate and eager to burn through the constrains of society in as spectacular a manner as the way you assaulted me with—”

And her hands are covering my mouth.

Again.

“I did notassault you, passionately or otherwise,” she states with a tone that brooks no argument. Mostly because she has physically silenced me.

I do believe, though, that I learned a countermove for precisely such a situation.

I kiss her hand.

“Kyaaaaa!” Minami squeals while clutching her hand to her bountiful—to her chest with which I have no inordinate fixation beyond the healthy interest a male of my age is supposed to hold for the beautiful, soft, bouncy, springy, warm, delightful—

Damn it.

Minami’s red face matches once again the shade of her garnets, and her agitated breathing is turning into a strenuous, nay, Sisyphean task my efforts to not stare at her chest. I have a girl in my room for the first time in my life, and it’s a girl who, hours ago, had my seed trickling down her lovely features.

I take a step toward her.

Minami freezes, her breathing stilled, and her eyes fixed on mine.

I take her chin, the thin bone almost sharp upon my fingers as her stern visage softens while uncertainty and something else flits across them.

And I lean down.

My lips are almost touching hers as she regains her breathing, warm air scented like her almost caressing my face.

“Don’t you ever dare say it was me this time,” she whispers with smoldering embers that carry at least three kinds of heat.

“I won’t ever lie to you, my Lady Minami.”

And I cross that final distance to kiss her.

Her lips are as soft as I’m starting to expect, and the simple fact that this is a thought I can have catches me completely unaware. I stumble back a step, and Minami follows me, her body pressed against mine in a way that makes it inevitable that I embrace her, clutching her closer even as I completely lose my balance and fall on my bed, dragging her on top of me.

Her weight upon mine is marvelous, something far lighter than I expected even after holding her aloft, and her legs soon straddle my hips, lessening the burden until she feels like a fairy dancing upon a still lake. Her soft body, her curves that I appreciate a bit more each time I somehow manage to lay my hands on them, are sinuously moving across my torso, and I feel my grasp slide down from her lower back to the place that can no longer be called a back.

She moans, and I struggle not to cry out in victory.

Her hands glide between our bodies, and I’m almost tempted to ask why until I realize she’s unbuttoning her jacket. Soon, stiff fabric gives way to something far more malleable, and I’m able to feel her chest much more clearly, my right hand traveling up to feel her full globes even as my left still remains busy on her other full globes. Basically, what I’m trying to say is that her globes are plenty full. And plentiful.

‘Ugh, I don’t know what’s worse, the pleonasm or the pun.’

I don’t think Hachiman would care to use such specialized terms, Inner Hachiman.

‘Oh, everyone is a critic. Would you rather I call Inner Yukinoshita?’

Perish the thought!

‘Good. Now stop this stupid tangent and focus on the moaning girl on top of your body. Fever dreams are serious business, and you need to quickly discern the symptoms.’

Must you always be so negative?

‘I’m sorry, you’re right, I should bring somebody more cheerful in here. Hey, Inner Yukinoshita—’

All right! Fine! I will focus on the Lady Minami’s delectable reactions and stop pestering you!

‘Good. Now try not to tip off Outer Hachiman, or he will exploit this relentlessly.’

Will do.

When I manage to wrestle my focus back on her, Minami is once again taking advantage by unbuttoning my own jacket. Truly, the concept of personal boundaries seems to be lost on her.

Something for which my gratitude shall be everlasting as the very stars.

‘Stars also die, you know? Like your hopes and dreams.’

As long as they can be buried alongside Minami’s, I don’t think I shall care overly much.

‘…’

Bolstered by my fleeting victory over Inner Hachiman, I try something I have yet to try: I pull her blouse out from her skirt.

At first she doesn’t react, but… Then I slide my hand up her back, finally touching her skin, feeling her smooth, delightful flesh writhing atop me, the taut muscles along her spine contrasting with the more yielding ones at her sides.

She leans back, eyes still closed, and lets out a low moan as she arches her back in a way that first presses her breasts against my chest and then proudly displays them, almost offering them to me.

So my other hand also travels under her garments, but this time up her front, her belly trembling at the ghostly passage of my fingers, her ribs a momentary distraction of frozen waves under tender skin.

And then I’m cradling her breast.

It’s… The lace of her bra still irritatingly impedes my full enjoyment, but that’s but a momentary obstacle as my thick fingers lift the cup, and then I can feel Minami’s full orb falling upon my palm, its tender form being shaped by my pressure as I sink into it, as her flesh undulates with my circular motion, as my fingers reach ever upward until—

I catch the elastic, stiff nub that must be her nipple between my fingers, and she yells.

It catches her unaware, and I freeze, my hands still on her back and her breast as she slowly opens her eyes.

There’s confusion there, to be sure, something that I have come to expect from her after her passion momentarily wanes enough for her to regain her senses, but there’s no repulsion, no fear, no instant urge to jump away from me. No, this time she looks down at the place where my fingers are stretching the fabric of her blouse before she bites her finger in a way that causes me to make her jump just a bit as my lower body (that is definitely not named the General’s Blade) reacts at the sight of her enticing show of arousal.

Basically, I’m hard and my… something. My Lady? Yes, My Lady is straddling me and all too aware of it.

And not jumping away?

Can I repeat that? She’s not jumping away from me.

Actually, she’s just sitting there, eyes smoldering, lip bit, breast thoroughly fondled…

Either she just had a stroke, or she actually isn’t consciously repulsed by my very presence and touch upon her person.

Is this love? Tell me, oh Lord of Battle, Harems, and Battle Harems, is this the love sung for centuries among bards of every land under Sun and Moon?

‘If by that you mean the thing idealized by horny teenagers looking for an excuse to hook up, sure. Love it is. Knock yourself out.’

Must you always be so ne—

‘Must you always ask dumb questions? Seriously, dude, either squeeze that tit and see how things go, or talk it out, because just waiting and staring is not a good look.’

Oh… Certainly, your advice seems as on point as ever.

“Lady Minami… I am honored that you would—”

And she closes my mouth with her hands.

Of course she does.

“Chuuni, I appreciate your acting like a gentleman and letting me take things at my own pace. Really, I do. But the last thing a girl wants to hear when somebody is groping her breasts it’s something about honor.”

Her eyes are still highlighted by a wondrous line of flushed skin that manages to cross her regal nose, yet they are at once sharp and soft, something shifting in them with every second, as if she’s reaching a decision, a momentous tipping point that—

“What I’m trying to say is… Don’t misunderstand, I want to be able to say no, to set my limits, to stop things if I feel uncomfortable, but I also… A woman wants to feel pursued. Don’t make me do all the work, don’t make me feel as if I’m forcing you to do anything—show me you want me. Tell me. Tell me what you want to do to me, ask me. Please, Yoshiteru?”

Her eyes soften further and I try to convey with all my strength the force of my conviction. Because it’s a request I didn’t expect, something that has left me reeling, but the sincerity in her tone is enough that I understand this is no mere whim. I may have hurt her by… By first refusing then avoiding her, then only reacting to what she outright demanded. These past few minutes have been the first where I have taken the initiative, and the fact that I stopped as soon as she opened her eyes may have been a blow to the pride and esteem of someone far too used to being pursued.

“Right. So, I’m going to take away my hands, and then I want you to… Ask me. Please?”

My heart thunders at what her words imply. Because this is no mere request for me to continue what we did on the roof this very noon. No, this is something of far greater import, and while I may not have ever thought the Lady Minami would ever accede to taking this step with the likes of me, I certainly have… pondered various and diverse scenarios regarding the subject matter.

Vigorously.

So, trying not to grab her hips and thrust her down against me, I nod.

She smiles, slightly wavery, and takes her hands away.

“Lady Minami, would you do me the honor of being my first partner in the making of—”

“Gods, no.”

I freeze at the words, and only her soft smile makes me stop myself from jumping from underneath her.

Then her hand grabs mine from over her shirt and presses it against her breast, her eyelids fluttering and another moan humming from between her lips.

“Not yet,” she mutters.

And I breathe again.

“You are a cruel woman, Lady Minami.”

“Told you I would take my vengeance,” she says as she straightens her body and rubs herself once again on my stiff shaft.

“I thought the thorough and demeaning cataloging of my collection would have been humiliation enough?”

“You thought wrongly. That was basically what comes naturally when a girl enters a boy’s room only to be faced by sexual harassment in vinyl.”

“I fear your nature must be harsher than anything else about you.” I move my fingers once again, her nipple rolling between them and her eyes close.

“Really? I would’ve thought I’ve been far too lenient.”

“Then I fear the trials ahead.” I lean up, and, for the first time, I lay my lips upon the slender, stretched swan neck before me, and her head points to the ceiling of my room as her hips sway once more.

“As well you should,” she murmurs before she leans down and kisses me.

There’s no burning fire this time, no overwhelming passion overriding reason, but a slow, deliberate devouring of my lips and mouth, something almost methodical in how she allows herself to be with me without needing an excuse to—

Ah. So that’s what it was.

‘Took you long enough.’

It certainly did.

I lean back down, dragging her with me, her body once again upon mine, yet her motions are now deliberate and teasing where they had been demanding and uncontrolled not that long ago.

There’s something languid about them, as if a river lazily meandering through easy fields, and she carries the same inevitability. Every touch, every shifting motion of her body pressing her against me in a new way that brings heretofore unknown joy and pleasure.

And then she stops.

“All right, that’s enough for today,” she says, and I blink uncomprehendingly.

“But—”

“Yoshiteru, you already splattered my face once with the excuse about not soiling your pants, and I had to go to class with my hair wet after you decided I really needed a Cameron Diaz special. So, as I don’t want to stink of sperm while on my way home, you will just have to finish things off by yourself.”

“But—”

“Yes, I’m still punishing you. Now, isn’t that a good incentive not to piss me off in the future?”

“Woman, pissing you off is how we’ve gotten so far up till now.”

Ah. Crap.

I said it.

And now she’s flushing.

“That—I… That’s not quite what…” she all but stutters.

“I just promised I wouldn’t ever lie to you.” Damn it! Isn’t there a way for me to stop digging already?!

“You are—!”

“Very hot when you are angry?” Apparently not. I may need another shovel.

And she kisses me.

The hunger, the unrestrained motion is back, and a part of me (that is not called the General’s Blade) is very happy to know it never really left. Because slow, sensual Minami is a delight, but the fire is what really—

Is this… Is this love?

‘Or hormones, or a crush, or immature infatuation, or having a woman pay positive attention to you for once in your life, or Minami having a great set of tits, a bubble butt, and legs that feel perfect when wrapped around your waist—’

Right, fine, I get it—

‘And now maybe you should look up what “or” actually means in Boolean algebra.’

… I don’t know whether that’s encouraging or not.

‘Then my job is done. Also, you are crushing hard, fattie.’

“Enough!” Minami leans back and shouts in my face.

“Uh?” I respond with assured certainty befitting the circumstances.

“I’m punishing you!” she says, and she tries to stand up before she figures she may need to get my hand out from under her blouse before trying again. Which she, sadly, does.

Fare thee well, hopes and dreams; may our parting be short.

“You certainly are.” I can’t help the dejected tone. Not that I particularly try to.

Minami looks bizarrely pleased at that, as if proud of the suffering the absence of her body brings me.

Which… Right, it may very well be the case.

“Right. Now, what’s the most embarrassing thing in here?”

“… What?”

“You heard me! You embarrassed me, and I’m going full karma on your ass.”

“Haven’t you tortured me enough already?”

“No.”

“Ah, right. How silly of me to ask.”

“Certainly. Now, fork it over.”

“Right… Except I don’t know what would constitute…”

“Yoshiteru, I will make it easy for you: what is it in here that, if it came to light, would make you want to crawl into your bed and never come out?”

At the question, my treasonous thoughts can’t help but picture the editorial Yukinoshita enumerating any and all faults with my poor manuscript that—

That Minami is holding aloft as if she was expecting the Zelda jingle to play out.

“Ah! That’s—”

“A novel written by a chuuni like you, full of annotations? What it is is perfect!”

“I have been given to understand that it’s anything but…”

“Uh?”

Woman, don’t tilt your head with confusion like that after so thoroughly enticing my passions only to reject further advances. Your cruelty needs some checks.

“I…” How to explain while avoiding lying to her… “I’m a… an aspiring writer. That was a manuscript I asked the Service Club to check, and,” Minami’s eyes clench at that name, which I guess I can understand after what I’ve learnt both from her and Hachiman’s recounting, “well, they didn’t… like it very much.”

“An aspiring writer? You mean this isn’t just some kind of hobby?”

“No, I do intend to become a professional of the field.”

Minami drags her fingers over the cover of my… novel. Its last title is ‘Secrets of the Lost Star.’

It had an alternative reading, but I ditched it after the last time I—

“So, you… you are sincerely trying. With this.”

“I am.”

She pauses. Opens the first page and starts reading. My heart soars for a moment before she makes a face of disgust.

“No, you aren’t.”

And that hurts a bit more than I expected.

“What do you mean—”

“You aren’t. This isn’t you.”

“What?”

“This! This thing! Just—just give me a moment.”

And she flops down on my bed, her legs kicking behind her, and starts reading with a deep frown on her face.

Befuddled, intrigued, and weirdly hopeful, I go to make some tea.

***

After about an hour of nervously providing Minami with snacks and refreshments only to end up lifting my weights as I wait for her judgment, she finally lifts her face from my manuscript and looks straight at me. I barely have enough time to drop my dumbbells and towel off the sweat from my face before she delivers her verdict.

“It’s shit.”

Right. I don’t know what I was expecting.

“But, worse of all, it’s not your shit.”

“As colorful as your language is, Lady Minami, I fear I don’t quite get the proper nuances—”

“Look, you talk all weird and pretentious, and that’s something I can get, but that? That isn’t you; that’s a mad thesaurus regurgitating things all over the page.”

“I… May have need of a newer volume to—”

“But that may be an affectation, a mere trifle, were it not for—damn it, you are contagious, you know?”

“I have been told so in the past.”

And now she shuts up and stabs me with a gaze that I can only describe as a frozen flame, for all that it carries the death at the heart of winter wrapped in the all-encompassing hunger of a wild fire.

Ah, I see Yukinoshita has taken on an apprentice.

“By whom?” she asks in a tone that’s as dead as my hopes for a dedicated beta reader.

“Hachiman? He oft complains about—”

“Ah, right. Not important then.” And just like that, winter abates, and the first signs of spring appear on her countenance.

What just happened?

“Right, back to this flaming pile of shit.” Oi, a bit of tact may not be amiss. “The main character is a loser who loses at everything: no friends, bad at studying and sports, shunned by his family, bullied by his classmates, contemplating suicide… the works. Then he’s brough to another world along with his bullies, where they all are granted the usual bullshit litRPG package before he’s stabbed in the back due to having an apparently useless skill that turns out to be the key for unlimited power that nobody had ever thought to exploit before, even though it’s blindingly obvious that anybody forced to live with such a skill their whole life would end up discovering the exploit due to sheer trial and error.”

“Uh, right, I don’t see what the problem—”

“It’s Arifureta!”

“I—That’s not true! Arifureta is not the only isekai with this basic premise—”

“And that makes it so much worse! It’s the copy of the copy of something utterly unimaginative! It’s not you!”

“You keep saying that, but I don’t know what—”

“You are not like this! You are smart and dumb, and solemn and goofy, and pretentious and humble! You are Yoshiteru Zaimokuza, the man who can rally a group of men to wage war on riajuus everywhere and win if not for his stupid friend trying to be too clever by half! You are not a copy of anything, much less of boring, derivative garbage!”

And I kiss her.

She struggles for a moment, her arms flailing before settling around me and drifting once again to pull my hair out of my ponytail as I lift her up from my bed.

I am tempted to deepen the kiss, to entangle my tongue with hers, but… Not this time. Not for this.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“Anytime,” she answers, her head leaning on my chest.

And I stand right there, in the middle of my room, holding a girl far too prone to getting carried by her emotions, who in turn holds something that I…

That may be not mine.

And I feel so relieved at that that I may even take Yukinoshita off my ‘To Kill’ list.